FilmBlather.com

"Illegal, yes. Immoral, no. We're using life to create life. That's all."

What is the big deal about cloning, anyway? I don't know why some people insist on calling it unholy, abhorrent and other such strong words -- complications aside, the idea itself is at worst useless and at best fascinating. Certainly it is terrific fodder for any screenwriter and author worth his salt, and such mainstays as The X-Files, Star Trek and Michael Crichton have tapped in to our society's inexplicable paranoia about a little harmless genetic manipulation. One wonders how long this topic will remain "topical."

The wonderfully titled Godsend has been sitting on the shelf for nearly a year, and no wonder: it's like The X-Files at its lamest written by Crichton at his least eloquent. Opening promisingly and spinning its wheels for a while before descending into complete, laughable incoherence, the film brings nothing new to the cloning debate, nor does it make the remotest of contributions to the thriller genre. Credit director Nick Hamm, I suppose, with fooling us (for a while) into thinking that the story is actually going somewhere, but it's a mean, dirty trick.

The essence of the deception is that for all of the first act and most of the second, Godsend plays like it has something on its mind -- something more than the schlock it eventually tries to force-feed us, in any case. It takes a while to get going, first setting up a serviceably convincing relationship between Paul Duncan (Greg Kinnear), a biology teacher in an inner city school, his wife Jessie (Rebecca Romijn-Stamos), an aspiring photographer, and their son Adam (Cameron Bright, and yes, the poor kid's name is actually Adam). When the boy unexpectedly kicks the bucket, the film seems genuinely interested in at least taking a gander at the aftermath of this effect on Paul and Jessie. When a cold-looking Robert De Niro shows up as Dr. Richard Wells and offers to clone the little brat if only the two of them would break off contact with the rest of the world and move with him to the middle of nowhere, we can almost believe that two presumably rational people might accept the offer.

At this point, the movie kind of stalls -- there's lots of creepy lighting and ominous pan-and-reveals, but nothing much seems to be going on. This isn't the kind of film where the lack of meaningful activity becomes disturbing; it's more confusing than anything else, and you start looking at the people next to you and wondering if you're the only one who's noticed that the story is not moving forward. It's not boring, per se, what with the nonstop soundtrack cues and ridiculous horror movie moments, but gradually you start to realize that nothing good can come of this.

And goodness is that instinct ever correct. The Big Twist is mind-bogglingly idiotic -- even more so than the mind-bogglingly idiotic one I had thought of and was anticipating with a sort of resigned dread. The revelations of the last act make so little sense that it's difficult to even be angry. Once again, the reaction is confusion and bewilderment -- not at the plot itself but at the unbelievable fact that the movie is really, no-kidding heading in this direction. This ending is tantamount to sabotage.

Meanwhile, Hamm starts pulling out all the stops, taking more than a few cues from his years as director of the Royal Shakespeare Company. Robert De Niro has never been more hammy, no pun intended -- one wonders what inspired him to take such a straightforward, unremarkable role that would otherwise probably have gone to... well, Greg Kinnear. At one point, the Bible actually burns, complete with a shot of the Good Book meaningfully catching on fire, as if we had not yet figured out that what Dr. Wells had pulled off was an abomination unto the Lord, or whatever. And what to make of that last scene, which is a combination of the kicker in Carrie and something like the ending of Arlington Road?

What I kept thinking of while watching the second half of Godsend was how cool it would be if the screenwriter had attached a completely random, non sequitur twist ending. It'd be funny if the film had gone through the whole spiel about cloning and a modern-day Dr. Frankenstein or what have you, only to have it turn out that, say, Rebecca Romijn-Stamos is actually Hitler! I think that's a pretty great idea.